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“We’re done, Harv.” I swallow. “I’m moving out. My dad’s in Seattle, so I’ll be living at home in the meantime.”
His chuckle fills me with lead. He’s crying, shaking his head, shifting away from the bed. “You know, sometimes I wished I’d died in the crash.”
“Harvey, stop! Don’t say that. I think it’s time you speak to someone. Or Claire—you shouldn’t keep everything inside.”
“And right now,” he continues, ignoring my comment, “I wish you’d died with me.”
I freeze.
His hateful words are powerful, all consuming, to the point where numbness overtakes me completely. For a second, I wonder if all of this is my fault—if I truly am to blame for our breaking point.
Surely a stake to the heart would’ve been less painful, but I let him dig it further into my chest.
I’m so sorry.
Harvey . . .
“Gemma? Gemma, can you hear me?” Gia tells me while we’re on the phone.
“Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”
“Are you okay? How was New York?”
I swallow, holding back a million tears threatening to fall. The screaming lady is crying all my tears. There are so many of them that I don’t think she’ll ever stop.
“It was good.”
“Oh, Sis, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I wanted to hear your voice.”
In true Gia fashion, she talks about Athena and her pregnancy. Hearing her talk about other things makes me feel better somehow.
As much as I know my family will be there for me during this tough time, I must heal by myself.
To find myself, all by myself.
The lost girl, who’s somewhere deep within. And the future me, who’s itching to be found.
“I’m moving out.” I say eventually. “We’re done. Going to Dad’s.”
“We’re all here for you.”
She tells me to let her know when, then we hang up. I head to the basement, gathering piles and piles of boxes that Gia had kept from the last time we moved here.
Don’t think of that.
It’s done.
I do several trips, bringing them to my room, then I text Henrik, letting him know that Harv knows.
About an hour later, I’ve packed my room, since I don’t own many things.
I sit on one of the boxes, looking at the empty shelves around me. A few work outfits linger in my closet, and I’ve kept casual clothes on the top of my dresser, in case.
Hen finds me like that when he comes in after knocking on the door. He sits on the floor, his back against the bed, staring at the empty space.
“I’m gonna miss you, little sis. You better keep in touch no matter what happens between you two. I’ll bring the good weed.”
